Addiction
by Butcher Jones
Summary: A sort-of study on Knox's relationship with his assassin--just who is in control? (Slash: Eric Knox & the Thin Man)


Author's Notes: Rated for theme and mention of oral sex. Take this story as you will and just remember it's fiction. Enjoy the show.  
  
***  
  
ADDICTION  
  
He hadn't wanted to do it.  
  
With the ruddy, dimmed light from the track lamps above him, the wide window overlooking the city behind, with Knox standing there on the top step of the platform staring at him, he wanted sorely to turn and leave. He was not one to abandon his duties: he would never run from a fight, no matter how bad the outcome was on his part. There were not many things that the Thin Man was afraid of, and standing here facing Eric Knox shouldn't have filled him with this paralyzing apprehension that caused him to twitch and shift under the other man's gaze, to cast his eyes to the ground in an almost shamed way. It was not something he could understand, but at this point comprehension seemed little more than a fairytale he had heard long ago.  
  
Knox smiled at him, a predatory gesture that did nothing to warm the mood hanging over the room. The Thin Man shied away and directed his attention solely to the floor, grinding his teeth audibly. The dense air in the room seemed to press closer, hot and thick, and he longed for the fresh night air outside and the acrid, bitter-sweet smell of fresh cigarette smoke. He closed his eyes, nostrils flared as he drew a long breath, trembling at the effort of remaining where he stood with Knox's impenetrable gaze fixed exclusively on him.  
  
"Come here." The voice floated across the still room, heavy and slow like warm wine. It seemed to take a great deal of time to arrive where the Thin Man stood, and he trembled at the sound of it as the words wrapped around him possessively. He released the breath he had been holding, listening to it rattle from his lungs and abandon him in the huge room. He took a hesitant step forward, head lowered almost entirely, neck bent just enough for him to peer fearfully up at Knox as the man stared back patiently, his eyes holding a hunger that his demeanor did not.  
  
With agonizing slowness the Thin Man plodded over to the bottom step of the platform, head low and shoulders bent so that he looked like he feared Knox might strike him. Knox stood observing the pale man for a long moment, as if pondering over what he ought to do to him. He extended a hand slowly, stroking his cool fingers along the Thin Man's jaw line just long enough to brush his right ear before moving his hand to the shaved hairs at the back of the other man's head. The Thin Man shivered beneath Knox's touch, swallowing a whimper as Knox's fingers slid down the nape of his neck.  
  
Abruptly, so that it almost frightened the Thin Man, Knox pulled his hand away and seized the man's bony wrist, stepping up on the platform. The Thin Man looked up automatically, surprised and a bit fearful. Knox smiled at him again, bluish light from the moon bouncing off his teeth and lending them an ethereal glow. He tugged roughly at his captive's arm, and the Thin Man in response stumbled rather clumsily up the remaining two stairs, joining Knox on the platform in a shy, almost bashful manner that seemed entirely out of place for the strange man. This ritual was not new to Knox however, nor to the Thin Man, and to Knox this behavior was nothing out of the usual.  
  
With uncharacteristic gentleness that almost seemed like uncertainty had it not been for the hungry undertones in each breath, Knox brushed his lips momentarily across the Thin Man's own, just long enough to gather the taste of salt and Marlboros before pulling back with another slight tug at the man's wrist. Knox released the thin wrist from his grasp, confident that the Thin Man would follow him. He crossed the platform languorously, his shoes thumping mercilessly against the tile floor and echoing back to the Thin Man, a grim reminder of what was to come.  
  
Knox seated himself on a dark red divan towards the center of the room, smiling calmly on the Thin Man who stood at the stairs, completely still save for a slight tremble that was nearly undetectable. Knox didn't beckon for him again, but his eyes remained locked coldly on the other man, giving him no room for the assumption that he might leave. Trembling visibly now, the Thin Man took a hesitant step in Knox's direction, his breath coming in ragged, heavy pants in the stifling room. He wished he could turn and bolt for the door, escape into the cool, lonely night, but it was just a fantasy of course; something far stronger than he was held him in the too-hot room, drew him closer and closer to the inevitable destination of Knox's maroon couch.  
  
Time passed, in what couldn't have been more than a minute but felt like eternity. Knox stared up at the other man as he stood before him, eyes downcast as a child being punished for breaking a window. "Get down," he spoke, his voice rumbling low in his throat.  
  
The Thin Man twitched at the command. He didn't want to do what he knew Knox was asking, but as Knox himself would have reminded him, it wasn't about what he wanted.  
  
The bestial sound of a zipper pulled the Thin Man from his thoughts. He sank down to the floor on his hands and knees, head low between Knox's splayed legs. Knox's fingers were at the back of his head again, pushing him forward. Swallowing hard, the Thin Man leaned in tentatively, wrapping his lips around Knox's cock.  
  
Again his mind went to the outside world, the comforting dark bulk of buildings and puddles of streetlamp light. He wanted to be there, in that cold and empty world, not here in this choking room, feeling Knox's hand at the back of his head, his burning heat in his mouth.  
  
He hadn't wanted to do it. But it wasn't about what he wanted.  
  
He *had* to do it. 


End file.
